Eye of the Storm
by nicowa
Summary: Third in the Scars Series. Before every battle there is some quiet time. A moment of rest before the ensuing confrontation. As Dawn makes friends and enemies, Ron learns something new and before long everything is more complicated than before.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is set in England. I will be using English terminology so don't come complaining that it's not 'right', k? I picked out of a hat to decide what house she should be in, and when I read the result I realised how apt it was. Hope you like it. Also since JK Rowling hasn't posted the names of the missing Gryffindor girls names yet I'm going to make them up. Also theres no notes on the names of the girls in the year behind Harry in Slytherin.

ooo

Dawn went quietly down to the Great Hall, every so often Harry would tell her to change course, take this stairs, watch that step, go behind this tapestry. If Dawn had been paying attention she would have been fascinated by the paintings and suits of armour, which all saluted her as she passed, though she paid them no heed. All she noticed was Harry's silence and she couldn't fault him for that.

How do you react when the person you trusted with all your secrets to defeat the most evil wizard of all time, when said person has been sorted into the same house as previously mentioned evil wizard.

She sighed and scratched under the cloth on her neck. The black robe Dumbledore had given her was a good fit, but it itched along the neck and under the arms, but at least she wouldn't look too out of place, hopefully.

She entered the Great Hall then, which postponed further introspection, and glanced around. Hermione and Ginny must have been waiting for her to come back since they noticed her entrance almost straight away, though they weren't the only ones.

Many glanced up curiously at this new addition to their number, especially one wearing no school colours. She ignored the curious looks and waved back at Hermione and Ginny before looking away. She didn't want to watch their faces fall as she went and joined the enemy.

She walked slowly up to the last table on the left, whose occupants wore green and silver and kept the curious glances to a minimum, or at least didn't stare so openly.

Apparently that was a theme with this crowd from what Dumbledore had told her.

Ambitious and cunning, he had said. Will use any means to achieve their end, he added with a directness that surprised her. She wasn't like that! He didn't counter-argue her point but he told her what he thought of that argument in a single glance.

As she thought about it she realised what he meant. She had broken numerous laws and run away from the only family she had to come to England to accomplish an impossible task. That was her end it seemed.

She shook herself out of these musings, again, and took a seat. Not too far from the others if they decided to grace her with their conversation, but not in the thick of them either. As she sat she watched Harry out of the corner of her eye. She could see the indecision in his eyes, his longing glances at Hermione, Ron and Ginny, the Gryffindor table at large, before finally he sighed and took the seat beside her.

She relaxed. For a moment there she had been worried that he would up and leave her. She gave a small smile and out of the corner of her eye she saw him return it with a wry grin of his own. She wondered what he was thinking, longed to ask him but she couldn't so much as utter a peep with so many witnesses. She refrained herself and at a gesture from him began to help herself to the food laid out before her.

It was the first time she had eaten so well in months, Buffy not being as good a cook as she was great at ordering take-out, and she enjoyed herself, ignoring the pointed looks she was getting from her housemates and the grin on Harry's face. When the dinner vanished leaving desert in its wake, Harry laughed out loud (or so it was for Dawn) at the childish delight on her face at the many options before her. So many options, in fact, that she seemed hard pressed to choose.

"Oy, you!" the uppercut English accent cut through Dawns desert dilemma. She frowned at the intrusion and glanced up. The brunette who had called so rudely was staring imperiously at her down a nose which was, Dawn was happy to note, so turned up you could have used it as a coat hook. When Dawn didn't appear to be forthcoming with a reply, but seemed content to continue to stare, the other girl frowned. A delicate manoeuvre which pulled even more at her shrunken nose. "Did you hear me?"

Dawn started as the girls scathing voice once again cut through her musings.

"I'm sorry?" Dawn asked, not having heard the last bit. The other girl nodded, as if accepting the apology.

"Pass the pumpkin juice," she said.

"Excuse me?"

"The pumpkin juice! Pass it here," she said irritably. Harry pointed out the jug, full to the brim of a strange orange liquid. But that didn't seem to be what Dawn meant.

"What's the magic word?" Dawn asked pointedly. The other girl rolled her eyes.

"We're not allowed do magic in the halls, idiot." The other girls laughed at this. Now Dawn rolled her eyes.

"I meant 'please'?" She knew she shouldn't alienate anybody in her house so quickly but, wow, this girl really ticked her off. The other girl scoffed. Then frowned when Dawn still didn't make any move to hand over the jug. Obviously physical effort of any type was beyond this girl since she could have just got up and gotten it herself and Dawn wasn't about to do her any favours.

"Please," she ground out and Dawn smiled at her. She passed the jug, which spilt when the other girl snatched it off her, and went back to choosing deserts. She finally settled on apple crumple - still warm from the oven - with ice cream and jelly when the other girl stood, followed quickly by her sycophants, and left the table. But not before digging an sharp elbow into Dawns back that made her gasp. She glared at the retreating back of her fellow Slytherin before turning back. Another voice made her look up.

"You don't really want her for an enemy." The voice belonged to a boy around her age, with a pale face and blonde hair that almost reminded her of Spike. His eyes, almost silver, set them apart. She smiled at him, flirting almost as a habit. He looked her straight in the eye, she noticed, which was a rarity in boys.

"I can handle her," she said with a cheeky grin. He shrugged.

"Your funeral." But he smiled as he said it, and his smile was a sight in itself. Almost blushing now, Dawn turned back to her food, when he spoke again.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Dawn, Summers," she said, trying to ignore Harry's muttering, it made it hard to concentrate, and with the eyes this guy was giving her, concentrating was hard enough.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he offered in reply. Dawn nodded, dumbstruck, and went back to staring at her food again, watching the ice cream melt into a creamy mess on the apple crumble. She was trying to keep a straight face, caught between laughing at his, more than likely accidental, Bondism, or frown at the fact that she had just been flirting with Malfoy, prince of darkness. Or at least that's the way she had thought of him since Harry's description of him. Only she hadn't pictured him as cute, or with such dazzling eyes. Harry hadn't described him well at all, only saying he looked inbred. As if, she thought.

"Anyway," he continued, "I meant what I said. You don't want her as an enemy. When

Pansy fights, she doesn't fight by the rules, ever!"

Dawn just smiled and shrugged, still avoiding his eyes. Draco shrugged and stood, leaving without another word.

"Huh," Dawn huffed, annoyed at herself for flirting with the evil guy, as she settled her head on her hand, stirring the mess in her bowl. "They never do," she groused, then took a spoon of the mixed crumble, ice cream and jelly, tasting the mix with a soft 'mmm' of satisfaction.

ooo

When it came to finding the Slytherin common room, Dawn supposed she could have followed Harry's directions but even he admitted that they were sketchy at best, and she didn't fancy wandering round the damp corridors under the castle for the rest of the night. It had been a few years since the Polyjuice incident, Harry explained, and it hadn't been like he'd wanted to repeat the incident.

On his advice she approached a Prefect, who, introducing herself as Marian Lithly, brought her down to the dungeons and the entrance of the Slytherin common room and told her the password, dragon livers. She was also kind enough to point her in the direction of the fifth year dorms, where she should find her bed ready and trunks already brought up for her.

After saying her thanks, Dawn beat a hasty retreat, already seeing the wondering questions on everybody's lips and not really in the mood to answer. As she escaped up the stairs she just had time to hope that the girl, Pansy, wasn't in her year, and therefore in her dorm, before she pushed open the door to the room.

Phew! Empty. She glanced around the beds. They were all made up but only four, that she could see, had personal belongings on the bedside lockers. She spotted her bag at the end of the furthest bed and made straight for it, checking the locks. None appeared to have been fiddled with, but then with magic how could she be sure.

She turned to ask Harry and was surprised to find that he wasn't with her. She stood and peered around the beds. Harry stood sheepishly at the door of the dorms. He glanced apprehensively at the beds and discarded clothing as if expecting half naked girls to pop out of them at any moment. Dawn laughed at his red face. While he had never been exactly comfortable in her room back in Sunnydale, he had at least been able to come in without going such colours.

She was about to call him in and tell him not to be so silly when she heard voices nearing. Girls voices. Harry stared back down the stairs, almost panicking at this point, seeming to forget he was a ghost and therefore could not be seen. He turned and ran, further up the stairs. Dawn bit back a grin as her fellow dorm mates came in. Their conversation faltered and stopped suddenly when they noticed the interloper.

"Hi," Dawn smiled uncertainly. Wondering if she should offer to shake hands. Do wizards shake hands? She wished she could ask Harry, the coward, but her fears abated momentarily when one of the girls stepped forwards, hand outstretched.

"Tracey Davies, allow me to welcome you to Slytherin." Dawn took her hand. She actually had to look up slightly when she greeted the girl. She gotten used to being the tallest female in the group, none of Buffy's friends ever topped five five.

"Dawn Summers, and thanks," she responded. The other girls stepped forwards then, ice successfully broken. She met a Laura O'Connor, a girl whose accent was definitely not English though she wasn't able to place it exactly, Kira Hadley, who was tiny with a huge mop of tightly wound curls, and Allison Dearheart, who, pinching her lips, looked like she expected the worst of everyone and especially of Dawn.

Dawn was immediately surrounded and reflected that perhaps Harry had had the right idea when he'd beaten a hasty retreat. The girls settled on the nearest bed, though Allison rolled her eyes at such girly behaviour she wasn't above joining in, and Dawn settled back against one of the posts as they fired question after question at her.

What school she'd gone to… how long she'd been in England… was she enjoying herself… sorry about the weather… And-

"Where, oh, where did you get that awful thing?" Tracey asked derisively, flicking at one of the sleeves of the robes she was wearing. Dawn flushed. One of the other girls, Kira, she thought, shot Tracey a glare for being so rude.

"I didn't have time to do any proper shopping," she said quickly. "I just borrowed this." She glanced around at them, then asked hesitantly, "its not that bad is it?"

It was god-awful and she knew that. She watched the hesitation flicker over the other girls faces before Tracey hastened to correct her mistake.

"Oh, its…um, fine-"

"Don't worry," Laura interrupted, smiling. "We're about the same size, I can lend you a robe till you get your own."

Dawn smiled back, thanking her. Maybe Slytherin wasn't the den of snakes it was made out to be. She joined in the laughter as Laura told a tale of how Tracey messed up a cosmetic charm, with Tracey protesting vehemently at the turn in the conversation, turning her hair orange for a full week with no help to be gain from Madam Pomfrey, which didn't even compare to a slightly old fashioned robe, "so don't you worry!"

ooo

Hermione and Ginny were quiet at the Gryffindor table as Dawn returned their wave tentatively, before she turned away and sat at the Slytherin table. The looked at each other shocked, for a moment, before looking away again. They turned back to their previous conversations and tried to ignore the flash of unease that drifted through them both.

Ron noticed their sudden quietness but felt he had enough on his plate trying to pull Neville out of his shell without trying to figure them two out as well.

Neither of the girls said anything much, joining in on the conversation when they had to, as they drifted back to the common room for the night. When they got there they immediately said goodnight, pleading tiredness, and heading up the stairs to the girls dorms.

Neville waved them good night before heading up the opposite stairs, Ron hard on his heel. Dean and Seamus followed behind them, eager to talk, away from the ever curious mass in the Great Hall.

Ron could tell the company wasn't quite what Neville wanted at the time but he couldn't find it in him to tell the lads to quit it. He'd missed the school more than he liked to admit and found himself entering into the friendly banter easily. Neville slipped into bed, but Ron was heartened by the fact that he didn't immediately pull the curtains, but pulled the blankets up to his chin, turning out to the lads and listening to their easy laughter with a faint smile on his face.

The dorm was cold though, with October almost over the weather had taken an almost severe turn for the worse, and they were all soon in bed, still grumbling all the time though. The lights were extinguished and they settled down somewhat. There was still the odd muffled joke, with sudden explosions of laughter at the dirtier ones, until one by one they drifted off to sleep.

Hermione and Ginny didn't stop till they were out of sight and sound of the boys who could still be heard below in the common room. Ginny was the first to speak.

"I though she seemed nice," She opened with. Hermione nodded. "A bit quiet maybe. I didn't think she'd be put in Slytherin. She didn't seem… I thought Ravenclaw, if she wasn't Gryffindor. I was hoping… " The red-head shrugged. "I mean it's obvious that Dumbledore knows something about her, more than he's telling, it's just- What do you think?"

"I think, that there's more to her than we think," Hermione said slowly. Then smiled at this weak ascertain. "We'd better get some sleep. Night Gin."

"Night."

They parted, Hermione heading up to the next floor to her dorms. She made a face at seeing the light under the door. More than likely Lavender and Parvati were waiting up for the latest scoop on Harry's case. Well, Hermione thought, they won't get anything from me. She pushed open the door and saw three excited faces turning to the now open door, Jasmine was already asleep.

She frowned at them, but nobody seemed set to comment or question her and when the conversation restarted, Hermione realised they were talking about the new girl, Dawn. Though they didn't know her name.

For a moment she wondered how much Parvati would be willing to pay her for any information Hermione had on Dawn. Though, she frowned, thanks to Dumbledore I don't know much more than the others. Just her name, Dawn Summers, and the fact that she's obviously American. She was just slipping into bed when something Lavender said made her look up.

"She what?" The other three looked at her in surprise. The others laughed.

"Ya and Pansy didn't seem too impressed by her attitude," Mariane said laughing. Parvati snorted.

"I'll say, you should have seen the look Pansy gave her before she left the Great Hall," she shook her head, ruefully. "I wouldn't like to be in her shoes when Pansy gets even. You know what they say about Pansy when she gets mad…."

Hermione drowned out the rest of the conversation, wondering on this latest development. A Slytherin who insisted on good manners?

That would certainly be a pleasant change.

ooo

Ron didn't fall asleep as quickly as the others. Despite being exhausted from the journey up on the train, he couldn't drop off. He found himself thinking of Harry. The Quidditch training was beginning in the coming week and Gryffindor found themselves without a seeker. Or a captain for that matter. Although that could have changed in the two weeks that he had been out.

He wondered who it would be, then decided he didn't care, he wouldn't be playing anymore. Life was suddenly too complicated for such frivolities. He rolled over, trying to clear his mind and find some rest before the morning. A quiet sound made him lift his head and glance around the dorm, looking for its source. Movement from the bed beside him caught his attention. Neville, fast asleep, face drawn in the light of Ron's wand as he struggled in the confines of a nightmare. Ron crept from his bed ignoring the stabbing cold of the stone floors and crossed to Neville's bed.

Gently, then firmer, he shook the boy by the shoulders until Neville woke, still gasping in fright. His eyes sought the shadows beyond his bed for something that couldn't be there.

"Harry?" he croaked, voice weak from sleep. "I'm sorry, Harry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

"Neville, Neville." Ron shook his babbling friend to get his attention, but Neville's eyes didn't stray. Ron glanced up to see what Neville could possibly think was their friend, back from the dead. Some old jersey, he thought, draped over a chair offering enough of an illusion to a half asleep mourner. His heart almost stopped when he saw the ghostly shadow standing in the gloom.

"Harry?"

The ghostly shadow started, then turned and ran out the open door. Ron followed as fast as he could. Neville, forgotten, wept into his pillow at half-imagined spectres. Running down the winding stairs he tried desperately to catch up with the fleeing figure but he didn't catch another glimpse. He erupted into the common room, an avenging angel, to find it empty, dimly-lit and still warm from the embers in the fire place.

"Lumos," he muttered, his wand still clutched in hand. He cast the wand over the room, lighting up the shadows, but not illuminating anything other than armchairs and couches and a few scattered papers. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and turned to go back up the stairs when a new thought occurred to him.

He crossed to the portrait hole and pulled back the frame, waking the Fat Lady sharply. She glared at him in the half-light. He spoke before she could berate him for the lateness of the hour.

"Did anybody come through here?" he asked abruptly. She narrowed her eyes at him crossly.

"Is that a trick question?" she asked irritably. Ron grit his teeth.

"Just now," he barked. "Did someone come in in the last few minutes and then leave just now?"

"Don't be silly boy, everybody's asleep, or should be," she said pointedly.

"Just answer the question!"

Seeing she wasn't going to be left alone till she satisfied the rumpled teen before her.

"No," she said. "Nobody has come though here since the last people came back from dinner hours ago, which, if I recall correctly, was you, you and your friends!"

Ron nodded, closing his eyes against the sudden disappointment. He'd been so sure! He tried to calm himself down, bring himself to apologise to the Fat Lady who must think he was an awful brute.

"Go to bed," her soothing voice cut through to him. "You'll feel better in the morning, I'm sure of it." Ron smiled at her weakly.

"I doubt it," he said, but he closed the portrait, more gently than he'd opened it. He went back to bed and, beyond all expectations, slept. A deep dreamless sleep.

ooo

Harry cursed himself as he fled through the dungeons, trying frantically to find the Slytherin common rooms. He'd known what he'd done was stupid, reckless, but he hadn't been able to restrain himself.

After checking that Dawn was fast asleep, and still feeling uncomfortable in the midst of all those sleeping girls, he left quickly. Unthinking as he wandered the halls of Hogwarts, unseen by both passing ghost and patrolling man. He deliberately didn't think on what he was doing as he drew closer to the Gryffindor common room, passing straight through the portrait guarding the tower quite easily.

He checked on Hermione first, glancing quickly, not stopping in these dorms either. He hadn't meant to stay long in the boys dorms. But he saw the restless form of Ron tossing and turning as he tried to sleep. Then watched helpless as Neville's sleep-encased movements became more frenzied. He saw horrified as Neville's half-closed eyes tried to focus on him, before finally he'd cut and run when Ron's eyes had caught his own.

He paused, almost-leaning against the nearest wall as he thought that one through. Dumbledore had told him, well Dawn, about the legendary powers of the seventh son. But Ron was the sixth son and Ginny the seventh child, so he must have imagined Ron seeing him.

Ya, like he'd imagined Ron chasing after him, calling his name and even questioning the Fat Lady to see if anybody had left mere minutes after he'd passed straight through the wall.

He shook his head and walked on. Half an hour later he finally conceded defeat. If he'd gotten anywhere near the Slytherin entrance, he hadn't seen it, and was now hopelessly lost in the depths of the dungeons, further than he, or anybody for that matter, he thought, noting the thick dust carpeting the ground, had been in a while

He frowned, thinking how Dawn would react in the morning when she woke and he was nowhere to be found. He frowned again when he felt an unfamiliar sensation as he thought of Dawn, almost like a knowing. An odd idea came into his head, which deserved testing. He concentrated a moment on thoughts of Dawn, laughing at some joke Ron had told on the train, exhausted and drained that morning in the Leaky Cauldron, her excitement and wonderment as she first caught a glimpse of Hogwarts when crossing the lake. Even as he concentrated, a part of his mind was shocked at the number of visuals he had of her.

He walked back the way he'd come a few feet, took a corridor he hadn't noticed before, walked on straight for a few more minutes before finding himself in front of the blank wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

He wondered at this latest development in their connection, making a note to tell Dawn in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Dawn didn't like waking in new places. Because waking in new places usually meant she had been kidnapped, was probably chained to something immovable and wasn't getting out of the situation without some aspiring Big Bad getting its ass kicked and her getting a Speech from Buffy.

So it came as a surprise to her to find on opening her eyes, not a dank cave or tumbling down warehouse, but soft tapestry curtains in green with silver edging, cool stone walls without a sign of damp and the last glowing embers in the fireplace casting a gentle glow over the room.

And a pair of eyes that were as green as the curtains, but more alive.

"Morning," he smiled at her. She couldn't help but grin back.

"Morning," she replied. A startled exclamation brought her attention to the other side of the room.

"Oh, Dawn, are you awake?" Dawn lifted herself up onto her elbows to see Laura, one of the girls she'd met the night before, gathering books and parchment and stuffing them into her bag. "I was just going to wake you. You'll be late for breakfast."

Dawn nodded, and sighed at the reminder of the strange world she had entered into. She noticed then that the other beds were empty.

"Early risers," Laura commented. "I usually need some Wildfire Whiz Bangs to get me out of bed most mornings." Dawns' 'huh' went unnoticed, "Com'on, if you're quick I'll wait for you."

Dawn barely noticed that Harry quickly turned his back as she got out of bed as she took the proffered robes Laura handed her.

She was a bit surprised to notice the trunk at the bottom of her bed. She glanced at Laura to see if she was watching but the other girl was carefully arranging her hair into a plait and she hadn't noticed anything off. Dawn took that chance to open the trunk without Laura's curious eyes and cast her own over the contents. She lifted an eyebrow at what she saw. Apparently Dumbledore expected her to be a full fledged member of the school, if he was giving her all these books.

"What do we have this morning?" She asked Laura, deciding to face the day with as brave a front as she knew; she would make Buffy proud.

Dawn wasn't having a good first day, and it was noticed by a good many, despite her 'brave front'. Those who noticed remarked on it, she looked lost and harried and, after Herbology, dirty. She was at a distinct disadvantage; if she had joined the school during the first week she would have hardly been noticed amongst the other first year students milling around. But having started so late in the year, relatively, she stood out. Hermione saw her coming from her first class of the day, Herbology, where, having been held behind by her professor, she walked alone.

Although alone was relative.

She appeared to be having an argument with someone just out of Hermione's line of sight, it was akin to the effect of someone in Muggle London talking on a hands free kit - there was a moment of disorientation as you wondered who they were talking to before noticing the little blue earpiece, or similar, in their ear.

But muggle devices wouldn't work in Hogwarts, she knew that for certain. All of a sudden Dawn looked up and caught Hermione staring at her, the girl blushed and hurried on. Hermione stared after her for a moment before moving alone, adding it to the list she had of weird things she knew about Dawn Summers.

Ron almost bumped right into her as she left the History of Magic classroom. She looked pale and clammy and for all the world like she'd seen a ghost - which, he supposed, she had.

Ginny had Care of Magical Creatures with her and watched her carefully throughout. She had keen eyes and was quick to pick up on things that others might dismiss. Dawn's excitement in class may have been due to the rare sighting of one of the countries three Ibex: It was four foot high at the back but its head and horns extended much higher in the air than Ginny wanted to think about and while everyone else was doing the sensible thing and hanging back, Dawn was at the forefront asking could she feed it; even Hagrid thought that was a bit much - he enjoyed her enthusiasm though, but it looked like all her Christmases had come at once just to see something so wondrous, it was weird.

Then there was the one time Hagrid asked her a question about what creatures they had had in her old school. She had hesitated for a moment, then as if being prompted, answered slowly about Griffins and Harpies and once they had a Lamia. Hagrid nodded and continued on with the class. Ginny was the only one who saw the relieved look cross the other girls face.

And there was the fact that she was nice, to everybody. When the Ibex reared and Colin dropped his book on her foot, she just winced and handed the book back without saying anything mean, which for a Slytherin was unheard of. Impossible?

Draco saw her at dinner, listening distractedly to whatever gossip Kira was spreading. Alison cut across the conversation with a quick remark, no doubt it wasn't nice. The girls burst out laughing. Draco was almost shocked at the change that came over Dawns face when she laughed.

Her entire faced relaxed and she lost that careful, guarded expression she wore. If he hadn't been watching he might not have seen it. Or the quick shamed look she cast to the person beside her. Well, that's what it looked like.

He frowned.

He'd figured out some time ago that at least one of the students had a means of going about the castle without being seen but unless… he shook his head.

Impossible.

And he wasn't going into all the reasons why that was so.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Again sorry it took so long. I don't think the next one will be so hard. I've gotten past the worst part now so it should come to me faster. Enjoy!!!

--

The library was quiet, not that there was anything unusual about that, Madam Pince kept the students under tight rein while they were under her custody and the noise was usually kept to the minimum of shuffling papers and subtle coughing. That was during the day however. Nowadays most students kept to within their own common rooms after dinner, only the few were brave enough to venture out and they were usually the older students studying for their NEWTs.

Hermione didn't like the strange silence that had descended the library. Sure, she hadn't always been happy about those students who spent more time passing notes than studying but at least that was normal. Nothing in the school was normal anymore.

Too much had happened. Too much had changed.

She sighed wearily and turned another page. She was reading up on the Animorphous Potion, taking notes where she needed to. There wasn't much she didn't know. She had already studied most of the books when they had been told they would be making the Potion, and she'd read the rest when… but anyways, Hermione was nothing if not through.

Hermione didn't look up, only licked her finger and turned the next page. The notes on the Animorphous Potion ended after a few lines and she shut the book with a sigh and a thump. She pushed it back out of her way and pulled the next one out. She glanced between the index and the list in her hand before turning the crackling pages carefully.

There were a great many uses for Potion ingredients, even more than was taught in the highest class in school, uses most only learned under the tutelage of one of the great Potion Masters. But their secrets must be written down for safekeeping and this was one of the few books that contained those secrets.

She scribbled quickly, glancing up now and again as if feeling watching eyes on her. She abandoned her usual careful note-taking for haste, not wishing for anyone to come upon her at this time. It was one of the few reasons she was glad the library was so empty.

Akicate, she wrote, could be used to change the property of a single ingredient in a Potion. It was used primarily when rare or dangerous ingredients could not be found. It has no effect except on the single ingredient and the compound itself be used up in its use.

She stared at the passage she had just transcribed horror growing quickly at the uses such a compound could be used for, might have been used for. She fought the rising bile and closed the book.

At least now she knew something that-

The library doors opened and closed with a bang, sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet hush that dominated. She pushed the book away and pulled a different one closer, opening it to a marked page.

She picked up her quill and let her head fall onto her hand, eyes fixed on the unseen page, only looking up when she heard the screech of a chair being pulled out.

Ron let his bag fall onto the table with more force than necessary earning himself a glare from the librarian. Hermione allowed herself a small smile; some things never changed.

Ron craned his neck to see the name of the book she'd just opened - she tilted it so he could see it - and then raised an eyebrow at the familiar book, _i Moste Potente Potions /i _

"How'd you get that?" he asked in a low voice.

Hermione shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "I asked for it."

He looked incredulous for a moment, eyes striving in vain to meet hers, then passed it off. He'd long ago realised that if Hermione wanted something bad enough she'd get it, consequences be damned. And truth be told, it was one of his favourite things about her.

"Have you had a chance to talk to the new girl today?" he asked instead.

Hermione frowned as she shook her head, remembering the strange scene she'd witnessed near the greenhouses.

"There's something a little… off… about her," she admitted, biting her lip as she thought it over. She hadn't seen anything like it since fourth year when Rita Skeeter had been hiding on the grounds as a beetle, and she'd made sure nothing like that could u ever /u happen again.

Ron nodded, not really listening. He was on the verge of telling Hermione about the strange dream he'd had last night - where he'd thought Harry was in the dorm with him - but one look at Hermione's pale face was enough to convince him that she had enough on her plate.

He didn't know what research she was doing - after the third time she'd bitten his head off about asking he'd decided to leave well enough alone and wait 'til she was ready to tell him - but it was taking a lot out of her. Added to the workload the professors were piling on in preparation for the NEWTs next year and it was a wonder she was holding up.

She came out of whatever 'new-girl' induced thought-process she was in to ask, "How's Neville holding up?"

Ron shrugged. "He's not sleeping." He bit his lower lip as he thought for a moment. "Not well anyway." He looked up, staring at Hermione with worried eyes. "I don't know. I mean- I know he has nightmares and I've tried to get him to talk to me about it but he won't. The most I've got is a promise that if it gets worse to go ask Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep Potion." He wouldn't be the first out of the class who witnessed the event to ask for one.

"Do you thing he will?"

Ron thought for a moment the shook his head.

"I just wish I knew how to help."

"I know." Hermione nodded. She reached across, taking Ron's big hand in hers. "Don't worry Ron, we'll figure it out."

He took comfort in the gesture, holding her hand gently in his, until she pulled it back to pick up her quill again. She smiled at him, blushing slightly, before bending her head to the books again.

Ron suppressed a sigh and pulled out his Transfiguration homework.

--

Draco eyed the pair cautiously. They had their heads bent over their books again now and had such frowns of concentration on their faces that he felt sure they would not spot him, but it always paid to be careful.

He wasn't sure why he was watching them; he only knew that Hermione was up to something. The amount of study she was doing was immense, even for her, and some of the books she was perusing had nothing in them related to their studies. But for the life of him he couldn't figure out what they held that interested her so.

She never spoke of it, not to him anyway, and not to Ron either, he figured from the way she hid some of the books when she knew Weasley was coming. And she never let him near any of the notes she took. The most he could do was work out which books she had been borrowing and work out the underlying connections between them.

And that smacked of work. So he waited and bided his time.

--

Dawn lay back in the overstuffed armchair. The heat from the fire was making her drowsy and she watched the game before her with lidded eyes. Her new friends were playing a game of poker - Texas hold 'em - and Dawn watched with casual interest as the bets were laid down. She had declined playing herself, not because she didn't know how to play but because she had decided that the blinds were too high. She'd play for money but not for favours. She wasn't that naïve.

Harry was beside her, almost sitting on the arm of the chair, as was his wont, and he was watching the game with more than a slight interest. From the way he was watching the cards and the players she could tell that he'd never played before. She could see him itching to ask how it was played but, given that they were in company, she couldn't oblige.

She suppressed a yawn, she never realised school could be so much work, but couldn't help it when her eyelids slid lower over her eyes. She never even realised it when she slid into sleep.

--

She was at home, and knew that it was a dream. It didn't stop her enjoying the simple fact though. It was night-time and the house was peaceful. Everybody must be asleep, she thought. She moved slowly, every limb felt heavy, like something was dragging her down. Her eyes were heavy and sore from too little sleep.

She walked to the window, enjoying the simple sight of a Sunnydale night. She giggled. I'm a poet and I didn't know it, she laughed to herself. The smile on her face felt strange, like she was unused to that simple act. A dark figure was dragging itself up the road and with a sudden certainty, that was unlike her, she knew it was Spike. She watched him turn into their driveway, noticed the unsteady gait and wondered at it. He disappeared from her viewpoint and it was a moment before she heard a key in the lock.

She heard the door open softly and turned to see Spike stagger in. She had a moment to assume that someone must have given him a key when she heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs. She turned to see Tara watching Spike with no small bit of nervousness as he came in.

He came in, walking past her with a single glance and she felt a trill run through her - he can see me! Tara sent her a wan smile as she followed Spike into the kitchen and she felt giddy. It wasn't a dream. She was home!

She felt a surge of exhilaration and was on the verge of following when something caught her attention. A flash of movement in the mirror. She turned to the stairs a second time, already assuming that it was Willow coming down after her girlfriend, but there was no one there. She moved to the centre of the room, glancing down the hall in a futile effort. She bit her lip in consternation before turning back to the mirror.

She gasped.

They neither moved nor spoke as they caught sight of one another. A single word passed their lips.

--

"Buffy!"

Dawn shot up straight. Unfortunately there wasn't much up to go and she went straight up and out of her chair knocking the nearby table and sending the cards flying.

There were startled oaths and exclamations and more than one threat of violence from the players but she ignored it all as she jumped to her feet staring round the room in frightened horror. Above the mirror she caught sight of her own reflection.

A pale, pointed face surrounded by a mess of brown hair. She reached up a hand tentatively to touch her hair. It had grown long in the last few months. She hadn't had the inclination to have it seen to and now it swung past her elbows.

The sight in the mirror seemed to calm her somewhat, but at the same time it brought on a wave of grief she was not strong enough to force back. Ignoring the questioning shouts of her classmates she dashed across the room and up the stairs to her dorm. Once there she pulled the curtains closed with a sharp tug, hoping that they would understand the unsaid message and would leave her alone.

She lay in a huddled mess on her blankets, tears running freely down her face, sobs tearing through her body as she tried to come to terms with the vision shown to her in her dreams.

It wasn't true. It couldn't be true.

Buffy died. She'd seen her body. Been there at the funeral.

It wasn't true. It wasn't… couldn't…

A cold hand gently stroked her back; she ignored it but allowed it and her comforting chant to lull her to sleep.

Wasn't true… wasn't… not possible. Couldn't…

Between one thought and the next sleep claimed her once more.


	4. Chapter 4

Dicho Inter Amicus Latin title (not literal translation): Separation amongst friends

An: Yes it took ages and I am most sincerely sorry to anybody and everybody who is tracking this story. I just couldn't write anything for ages. I think I'm cured now and the next three chps should be up in fairly short order.

An2: Unbeta'd but I re-read it fairly close. If, however, I've missed something that annoyed you in your reading of this, then do please point it out to me!

--

Ron sat with his back to the tree, arms crossed, a mulish expression on his face. He was clearly ignoring the situation occurring right in front of his eyes while at the same time keeping a hawkish eye on the proceedings in case he missed something. Draco passed Hermione the jam and Ron's parental eye watched the distance between their fingers as if a single touch between them would the end of the universe.

Well it might be in his case. He grit his teeth as Hermione laughed at something Draco said and looked away. It was in looking away that he missed something vital. A single look passed between the bushy-haired Gryffindor and the resident Slytherin, a slight roll of the eyes on the boys side and a shrug of the shoulders from Hermione was the only indication of this silent communication and by the time Ron looked back, barely a half second later they were completely absorbed in their own sandwiches, any and all secret communication hidden.

It was he had to admit the strangest picnic he had ever been on. Instead of being out on the commons under the sun, Scotland enjoying a late Indian Summer, they were hidden from prying eyes under the awning stretches of the Forbidden Forest. They had even approached the enclave from opposite sides, so that nobody would know that they group, supposedly arch enemies, were meeting up. Neither Ron nor Draco would ever admit that the whole thing was a charade both put up with because of Hermione.

Ron because… well he wasn't going to go into that now and Draco… Well Ron wasn't sure of Draco's reasonings, which was the main reason for hating the sly, smug bastard. Of course the fact that the sly, smug bastard was also a rather witty comrade and often had Hermione in gales of laughter could have been one of the reasons. He wasn't going to admit that the major reason he came on these illicit meetings was because he was fairly sure if he didn't agree to go then Hermione would simply go on her own. He also wasn't going to admit that the one minor reason he came along was because he felt vaguely sorry for the git.

He had been there when Draco had been carried into Burrow, pale, unconscious, and raw with magical abuse. Had heard the full story of what had occurred to the boy and his mother and had been the only one, bar maybe his mother, who had heard the soft sobbing coming in the middle of the night when Draco had obviously thought that everyone was asleep.

So while he didn't exactly like the git, or trust him, he did believe that there was some glimmer of humanity buried within the git that Hermione might have a chance of saving if she had her way.

So he could put up with the picnics and the odd meeting and even the gifts mother still sent him.

Even if it killed him.

--

Ron managed to tune into the conversation just as it turned to the hot topic in the school at that moment, Dawn Summers.

"Ya, Draco," Ron said, leaning forward and completely interrupting Hermione's musings. "What's that about?"

Draco shrugged.

"New girl."

"That's right. I saw her. Pretty much an oddity."

"Ya," Hermione muttered. "I've never heard of anyone transferring. Once someone begins magical school it's a contract on both sides usually irreversible. That's why school expulsion is a rare issue."

"So?" Ron repeated.

"New girl. Tall, brown hair, ridiculous way of talking. Bloody Americans. Almost as bad as Muggles the lot of them." Hermione threw him a disapproving look for that last comment which he ignored with a smile while Ron simply threw his eyes to heaven.

"I meant do you know anything new about her? Besides her hair colour."

"Her eyes are the colour of the sea in stormy weather," he murmured softly. Ron's mouth dropped open while Hermione got a slightly dreamy look in her eyes at the comment. Draco snorted with laugher at the pair as Ron stared at him incredulously. "What?" he added defensively. "You honestly expect me to know her full life story that quickly?"

"Well…" Ron glanced at Hermione before answering. "Mostly I was just shocked at-" He hesitated.

Draco had laughed, really laughed. It was a rare achievement for someone so naturally close-mouthed and especially for Draco who had been particularly cold since…

Draco frowned. "What?"

"Never mind." Ron said decisively. He might not like the git, but even he deserved the right to laugh without having it brought under scrutiny. He missed the approving look Hermione sent him before she smoothly changed the subject. Draco let it pass easily and Ron wasn't the only one to notice the lightness to Draco's step when he returned to the castle.

--

The sky was darkening as Hermione hurried up the steps to the owlery. As the trio made their separate ways back to the castle she had suddenly remembered a letter she had in her pocket for her parents. She had meant to send it after Potions earlier but when Draco had slipped a note in her pocket asking if she could meet him in the Forbidden forest she had been unable to say no. And not only because he had rushed off straight away before she could even answer. She was just glad that the late summer light was still streaming through the windows so she wouldn't have to rely on the light from the torches as she made her way up the slightly too steep steps.

She hoped Hedwig was still in the owlery. Since the accident she had been taking care of the snowy owl but found that Hedwig had become more desolate and lonely as the weeks passed. She couldn't seem to understand why her owner had disappeared and why Harry had stopped visiting her. Ron had been woken more than one morning by Hedwig pecking on the dorm windows trying to get in to see her absent owner. And she would only leave after she had been left in to see for herself that he wasn't there.

It was a source of surprise to Hermione who she knew the birds innate magic should have let her know of her masters demise as soon as it happened. Now the only time Hedwig showed any enthusiasm was when she was given a job. So Hermione tried to make sure she was kept busy with letters to her own parents and to the Burrow. She slowed as she approached the owlery, the sound of voices made her hesitate.

Or at least the sound of one voice. The American twang gave the speaker away but Hermione wasn't close enough to hear what was being said. She waited by the door curious as to know who the girl was talking to but she couldn't hear the answering voice. She cursed her curiosity as she peeked around the door. She spotted her immediately sitting on one of the window ledges and to her shock Hedwig was sitting happily on the girls lap preening under the girls fingers.

Hermione managed to stifle her gasp of surprise at the sight. Even though Hedwig obliged Hermione in carrying her mail, she always shied away from petting of any kind. That this stranger could provide comfort to the owl in a way Hermione seemed unable to made her angrier than she could remember being in a long time. She wanted to storm in there straight away and take Hedwig from this intruder but a soft hoot held her momentarily. The American spoke back just as softly and, as Hermione crept close enough to hear, her words drove a chill straight through her heart.

"Sorry, he couldn't be here, Hedwig. He misses you too. He told me." The girl ran a long finger down the soft feathers along the side of Hedwig's head as the bird crooned sadly. "I brought you something," she pulled a treat out of her pocket, " he said it was your favourite." The owl accepted the treat gratefully and for the first time Hermione could see how small the bird had become in the weeks since Harry's demise and she could only just stifle a sob.

The owl hooted softly once more and then lifted off gently and flew on silent wings out through the window. Hermione heard as Hedwig let out one piercing shriek after another and realised that she was mourning in the only way she knew how. This time Hermione couldn't stop the tears from falling down her face. She wiped them away hurriedly. There would be time for that later, she decided.

Dawn was watching Hedwig go but her face was turned away and Hermione couldn't see her face.

"I don't think I can do this alone, Harry," she turned and looked upon the empty space beside her, "and before you say anything, no you don't count."

Hermione froze in total disbelief at what she just heard. Every single cell in her body seemed to freeze at this seemingly innocuous statement. Her mind screamed that it couldn't true, she had seen Harry die and there was no possibly way for him to be standing in the owlery or for Dawn to be speaking to him. Hadn't Dumbledore said himself that there was no way for someone to come back to life. But…

Indecision held her before she shook herself out of the daze. She stepped into the owlery, letting the American girl hear her footsteps so that she would turn to face her.

Hermione wanted to see her face for this one. She pulled her wand out and levelled it on the girl, anger causing the words she spoke next to come out as more of a growl than anything else.

"Where is Harry and what have you done with him."  



	5. Chapter 5

Scarpin's Revelaspell

Specialis Revelio (Scarpin's Revelaspell)

Description: Causes an object to show its hidden secrets or magical properties.

---

Dawn jumped down off the ledge as she heard the footsteps enter the owlery and froze as she saw Hermione come in. She watched in apprehension unable to say anything as Hermione drew her wand and levelled it on her.

"Where is Harry and what have you done with him."

The shock couldn't have been more obvious on her face. She swallowed nervously as she contemplated how she was going to get out of this one.

"Harry who?" she asked stupidly.

"Don't play with me. You know who I'm talking about!" Hermione cried. Her hair was wild about her face and Dawn could see the tear tracks running down her face. Beside her she could hear Harry whispering under his breath in a kind of mantra "oh God, oh God," but she didn't look over or give any sign that she had heard anything out of the ordinary. Silently she cursed herself for being so careless. She had assumed that everyone would be outside enjoying the sun and hadn't been careful enough in her speech. She was well and truly screwed.

"Look, I don't know what you think you heard-"

"You spoke to Hedwig, you knew her name," Hermione spoke in a false calm, "you said Harry had told you her favourite treats-"

"Harry wrote to me-" she said the first thing that came into her head.

"Don't you dare lie to me!" Hermione screamed. "You spoke to him right now. I heard you," she half sobbed. She suddenly stiffened, the tears drying in her eyes and Dawn could see the beginnings of madness in the girls eyes. "Finite Incantatium!" There wasn't even a ripple as the spell passed her by - Dawn pulled out her own wand but already knew she was too late, she didn't have the practice, the skill, that the other girl had - but Dawn could see Hermione wasn't put off by this and already had another spell on her lips. "Specialis Revelio."

This time the effect of the spell was enough to cause Dawn to feel light-headed and faint. She grabbed onto the sill of the window in an effort to halt her downward progression, but failed, and hit the ground with a dull thud. Her cheek hit the ground with a crack but she couldn't cry out. She did feel some measure of satisfaction as she heard a corresponding thud from the other side of the room before she couldn't even think that.

The room continued to spin around her for a few moments more as the spell plucked at her skin and her hair, she felt tendrils of the spell seep into her mind and this time she did manage to scream as it ripped at memories she held buried deep.

She saw blood running down her arm and realised she had just cut herself; she was facing her sister as every bone in her body was shaken as Buffy screamed that she wasn't her sister; she was standing looking down into a swirling vortex and knew she was going to die. Then Buffy was there and everything was going to be alright, only it wasn't. She lived every heartbreaking moment as Buffy told her she loved her, to live the turned and ran. She saw Buffy again as she lay on the ground, broken and bruised, a limp rag doll with all the stuffing knocked out of her.

Then she was cast further back to before she could remember; she was in a circular chamber and there was old men chanting around her and she could feel the love, their worship of her, and their fear.

She could feel every cell in their bodies as they cried out to her to take to safety, to flee where the Beast would not find her. They sent her away to the Slayer; she felt her energy folding like a comforter around the Slayer as she fought the demon Angelus, as she sat with her mother in love and tenderness with a single candle burning before her, felt her energy as she danced with the other Slayer, felt her blood surge in victory as she killed the Mayor and felt the cool of her blood as she became All, from the First to the Last and destroyed the thing with the human face and the digital heart. And she tasted the vampire blood on her own lips as Buffy gave in to the one called Dracula. She saw each moment in a snapshot but she lived it also.

She took part of her own essence and mingled it with the Slayers', placed it within the Mothers heart and felt the world change as she became Mortal being, with skin and hair and bones and feeling, she felt the world become Real around her and felt the Past become but a dream, that only returned fleetingly in the night time as her original purpose beat within her heart and became Magic. And she understood.

Then she was back on the cold hard ground and she could hear Harry pleading with her to tell him whether she was alright or not but she didn't have the energy to do more than move her lips silently. The lights dimmed and Dawn realised she was passing out. She felt a brief moment of gratitude before unconsciousness claimed her.

--


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione knew on waking that it was not going to be a pleasant day. Her head throbbed unpleasantly and she felt like she had gone ten rounds with a Basilisk. She groaned and the sound seemed to cause some excitement in the room because before she knew it she was propped up against the headboard against her will and made to drink something thick and lumpy. It reminded her of drinking Polyjuice Potion, the only upside was that the pounding in her head faded to nothing and her stomach didn't feel like it was in knots anymore.

With such a rapid improvement she decided to chance opening her eyes. It wasn't going to be the best decision she ever made. The sunlight hurt her eyes but it was the sight of the greasy-haired Potions professor that made her shut her eyes tight again and wish she hadn't woken.

"I see we're awake now," he said.

She nodded weakly and she could hear the sharp intake of breath that signalled the rise in temper of a certain professor. She spoke quickly to prevent the outpouring of ire she knew was coming.

"I feel much better now, Professor. Thank you." She opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly to help them adjust to the light.

The first thing she noticed on reopening her eyes was the Potion professor staring at her strangely from the chair he was sitting in beside her bed and how Madam Pomfrey watched her carefully. This was strange behaviour from the school nurse since she wasn't usually one to be skittish around patients. Which Hermione assumed she was.

"Um.." she asked, unusually hesitant. "Why am I in the hospital wing?"

Snape threw her a sharp look and leaned forward.

"You don't remember?"

Hermione thought for a moment and drew a blank. She remembered heading to the owlery with the intention of sending a letter to her parents but then… Had she fallen? She considered voicing that opinion, saw the hard set of Snape's jaw and thought better of it. She shook her head 'no'.

"I'll let the Headmaster know she's awake." Madam Pomfrey said as soon as Hermione's eyes alighted on her and before Snape could acknowledge her, she was out of the room. The room, Hermione noticed for the first time, was not the usual hospital ward she had been in previous times before. Rather than the hospital wing-like room of before she was being cared for in a large room with only one bed, her own, with wide windows to let in light - but she was more than surprised to notice the bars on the outside of the windows.

The wall were an eggshell white and though the curtains were a pale yellow they didn't break the colour scheme much. Even her covers were white with a yellow border. Hermione was sure that the person who chose the colours did so because they felt the colours were cheerful and bright but it felt strangely cold and unnatural. She considered asking Snape why she had been sequestered away like this but he cut her off before she could do more than think the question.

"Headmaster Dumbledore will answer your questions when he arrives," he said curtly. He stood from the chair and took the two steps to bring him closer to her, she shied back. She could see him biting back a curse, before he took a deep breath to calm himself. Hermione was surprised. It was the most restrained she had ever seen the Professor.

"I have to check you over, since Madam Pomfrey has scampered," he said to her plainly, obviously waiting on her permission. Hermione eyed him warily for a moment before nodded her head yes, even though it was very much against her better judgement.

He took out his wand, of sleek black wood, and Hermione watched carefully as Snape found out the results of his many questing spells. But his dark lidded eyes gave nothing away though she noticed that his skin did get noticeably paler one occasion. She knew better than to interrupt him while he worked so she was left to wonder at his demeanour. He nodded as he finished, tucking his wand away and sitting down with hardly a glance at her. She opened her mouth to ask him another question, thought better of it and lay back with a soft sigh.

Luckily she didn't have to wait very long. Dumbledore, though he never moved at great speed except at the direst circumstances, was always quick to any scene, in fact Hermione had noticed he was often there almost before the 'circumstances' happened, so it only a few moments after Snape had taken his seat that Professor Dumbledore entered the room, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey.

Snape stood quickly and Hermione watched him whisper something into the Headmasters ear before both he and the school nurse left the room. Now Hermione was very worried. It was rare that Madam Pomfrey allowed anything to distract her from any patient, therefore Hermione could only think that there wasn't anything really wrong with her and it was a simple case of her being in trouble, or that she was really sick and the school nurse had been too afraid to tell her. Which was hardly the case. Which left…

Dumbledore took the seat just recently vacated by Snape and watched Hermione, the usual merry twinkle in his eye a faint glimmer.

"Pepper imp?" He offered, holding out a brown paper bag which Hermione hadn't noticed before. She thought for a moment before politely refusing them with a quick shake of her head.

Dumbledore nodded sagely and returned them to an inner pocket of his robes.

"Perhaps it is best not." He leaned back in the chair and seemed content to wait on her first question. Which didn't take long for her to fire out.

"Why am I in the hospital wing?" she asked, a frown marring her features.

"Ah! But my dear you are not in the hospital wing, and that I think is the problem is it not?" The twinkle had returned and Hermione had the faint suspicion that he was enjoying himself.

"Ok," she said slowly. "Then why am I here, in this room?"

"Because you are not sick." He held up one finger to halt another question which was sure to come. "You have slept the past four days, with nary a reason why. Not a single thing Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape nor myself did had any impact on you. But at the same time you have not been affected unduly by this catatonia. Can you think of anything that might account for this?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Can you tell me," he peered at her intently, "what is the last thing that you remember?"

Hermione thought for a moment, retracing her steps the day before. She remembered having a picnic with Ron and Draco, then returning to the castle as it was beginning to get dark. She remember putting her hand into her pocket and finding the letter for her parents. Telling Ron to go on ahead and running up the steps of the owlery. She remembered coming to the owlery door and hearing voices and… She frowned. That was as much as she could remember. She couldn't remember whose voice it was or anything after that point.

She said as much to Dumbledore, though she didn't mention the urgency she felt when she tried to remember who was inside the owlery door.

He nodded.

"That's better than I expected," he told her. "You were found on the owlery floor late that night by one of the students who raised the alarm. You and Miss Summers-

"Miss Summ- Dawn Summers? What was she doing there?"

"Same as you, I imagine. Sending a letter to a friend. However she is also suffering from some short term memory loss so we have at this moment no idea as to how you both came to be unconscious on the owlery floor with mild concussion and slight catatonia."

Hermione stared at the Headmaster in amazement at the tone he used to speak of the injury to two of his students and the complete lack of knowledge anybody had of the incident. She was even beginning to think he was enjoying it.

"You both also seem to be saturated with the same magic, but it is something that none of my staff could recognise." He gave a startling smile. "Perhaps I shall have to introduce mandatory retirement and introduce new blood into the school.

"There is one clue," he told her then, and now she was sure he was enjoy himself. "With both yours and Miss Summers' apparent health at risk I undertook to discover what spells may have been used in that vicinity shortly before the incident. To my amazement the only two spells used all day in the owlery were a 'Finite Incantatium' and a 'Specialis Revelio', both cast in quick succession and by the same wand."

He was watching her carefully, watching to see if that information sparked any memories. She frowned. Then shook her head.

"I don't know Professor."

He nodded, looking downcast.

"Well perhaps if you come up with anything, anything at all, you might pass it along. I'm sure both myself and Madam Pomfrey would be most excited to know what could cause such a reaction in our students, and without any visible side effects." He stood and gave her a little smile. "Now I'm afraid I must go attend to some errands. They seem never ending when one is in such a position I'm afraid. If you are feeling better, you may get dressed. There are some very worried people waiting on you." He gave her a wink before leaving.

Hermione sat where Dumbledore had left her long after he had gone. She was afraid to move in case she would not remember. She could hear herself inside of her head, like a far off echo, word mixing together so she couldn't separate them fully. She seemed to hear herself screaming, heard herself performing the 'Specialis Revelio' spell Dumbledore had mention, but then it all went fuzzy. She did however had an image imprinted on her brain. Of Dawn Summers sitting on the window ledge in the owlery with a snowy white owl on her lap. For some reason she felt herself getting angry as she thought about it.

She sighed, massaging her temples with her fingertips. She pushed to covers back and stood. She was thinking too hard. It would come to her much more easily if she relaxed. Which meant she had to move and become busy and think about something else. No matter how much she wanted to concentrate on this problem, the solution would not come easily so it was best to let it be… at least for now.


	7. Chapter 7

Dawn stirred on the edge of sleep. The sharp edge, one filled with the kind of hard hitting nightmares that came from too little sleep and too much thought. Or maybe just from the fact that she had seen more in one short year than anyone could reasonably expect outside of a graphic novel.

Her hands clutched and pulled desperately at the bedcovers, searching for an anchor as she felt the dream stumble and change and try to take her over. _She voiced a soundless scream as one figure rose clearly in her mind, o'erswaying the other dangers and shadows until everything else paled and shivered into the darkness of the nightmare. She stood, or felt like she stood - immobile and terrified by her restriction - facing the… the thing and-_

_She **knew.**_

_This was something beyond this world, something bigger than her. Or perhaps of her. _

_The figure wasn't moving and yet it was, and it was coming closer all the while. And she knew, in that place as sharp as a knife that it was a dream. But that while it was a dream it was real. _

_Not the real that was real because she believed in it. _

_But real because it believed in itself and that was all the more terrifying because she was no longer in control. She couldn't stop it, couldn't stop it coming closer, couldn't stop it reaching out to touch her- _

_and in the gaping hole where the hand should be was instead only light- _

_and she didn't know how that scared her so much, cause light equals good, right. Only this light was moving, was hand shaped and now… _

_and now it was pulling back its hood and Dawn wanted to move, to twist her head away, didn't want to see. _

_But see she did. _

_And a shard of truth so sharp it could have drawn blood struck her, twisted deeper too because she had known. _

_Had known since she had first seen the figure who's face it was and-_

"Miss Summers?" The voice, soft yet urgent, and the hand on her shoulder, startled her more than she could have realised as she jumped bodily, arms flailing. One hand hitting something soft - her mind registered linen even in its panic - and then hard - wood - and the other smacked something that…

"Oh," She was, she now realised, in bed, in a bed, and the other thing she had smacked was in fact a kindly looking nurse type who didn't comment on the face smacking thing only kept up a steady steam of calm words and soothing noises as she tucked Dawn back under the covers, handed her something think and viscous that could only have been **medicine **and made her drink, until Dawn could feel the individual beats of her heart again, though the rapid thumping still made her feel slightly queasy, like she was on a boat in stormy weather.

But she could breath.

"Are you ok, now?" The nurse-type asked, searching eyes running over and down her face, and Dawn nodded, feeling her face grow hot under the scrutiny. She swallowed thickly and the nurse, anticipating the next request, had a glass of water pressed to her lips almost before she could think of asking.

Dawn drank gratefully, though she came to the bottom of the glass sooner than she wished.

"Only so much now," the nurse said. "Too much too soon will only upset your stomach." And Dawn didn't even think to question that tone. Instead she cleared her throat, rather noisily, and nodded. She fought with the comforter for a moment till it eased its grip over her and allowed her to sit up against the headboard - wood.

She watched the nurse bustling about, clear away what looked like herbs and tidying up glass phials, she only hoped the nurse, clearly a witch, had just been getting some work done while she was asleep rather than think that some of that had gone into the medicine she had just taken, because, phew!, some of the herbs she could smell from her bed. Finally after the nurse had run out of things to do to keep her hands busy and took the only seat available did Dawn speak up. And when she opened her mouth to speak she said the first thing that came into her head, wincing inwardly even as she said it, knowing how cliché it was.

"Where am I?"

The nurse looked momentarily surprised, though she quickly erased the emotion from her face and adopted a look Dawn recognised from Giles. It was his 'careful to not scare the victim' face. Although she supposed that the word 'victim' could be replaced by the word 'patient' in this case, though only just. She shivered again at the texture of the medicine she had taken.

"You're in a room just off the hospital wing."

Dawn nodded, waiting for her to go on, but she remained silent.

"Are you the doctor?"

She, the other woman, looked slightly puzzled.

"I'm Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse." She frowned at Dawn. "Have you not been to the hospital wing before?" she asked searching the girls face. She had assumed that she had simply not recognised the girl from the dozens of others who had come to her over the years who had come to her to be treated or to simply have her explain some of the facts of life a little more clearly than their parents could. Really some of the things parents told their young ones was… well not the point right now. She had never had a student who had never known who she was… unless of course. Damn Dumbledore! She had been so busy getting her patient well and whole that she hadn't taken the measure of her but he could have told her.

"You're the American girl." It was a statement more than a question but she waited for the nod before she went on. "Duelling in the hallways I suppose? It happens. I was surprised when you came in and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with you, but of course the way curses and hexes intermingle its not wonder. Really!" she pinched her lips together as if to quiet her tongue. "I've seen it before, don't you worry. There was a French student about ten years ago and she had four boys in the hospital wing in her first week. Oh they learned not to underestimate her. Don't worry about it, it's all part of the integration process. Changing schools can be so hard on a young person and since it happens so rarely," she hesitated, on the cusp of asking the circumstances that had warranted- But she only brushed the thought aside. "Just brush up on your shielding and you'll muddle through."

Dawn nodded, though her expression told more than words how much even that bit of close to motherly advice meant to her. Madam Pomfrey's expression softened somewhat.

"How about I go see about some breakfast?" She asked not unkindly. Dawn nodded gratefully. She could feel the early warning signs of a ferocious hunger beginning to creep up on her and even more than that she wanted a few precious moments to get her head on straight.

As the door clicked closed behind Madam Pomfrey, she let out an almost silent sigh of relief and relaxed back against the bed. Her fingers twisted at the cool sheets as she considered the thought that she had been hit with a memory erasing hex because, for the life of her, she couldn't remember any such duelling in the hallways or anything that could have warranted her ending up in the hospital wing.

Her eyes flickered beneath her eyelids as she thought back. She remembered going to dinner and then heading to the owlery when Harry had expressed a quiet desire to visit his pet owl. She remembered fobbing one of the other girls off when she offered to accompany her, knowing that Harry would want them to be alone for a few minutes at least before they went back to the more crowded common rooms and dorms she shared with the Slytherins. She could even vaguely remember talking to Hedwig and watching the bird fly off on broad white wings.

It was there her memory went fuzzy. Or rather, completely blank. The only other thing she remembered from before she woke was the dream _-nightmare-_ and she didn't think that had any connections.

Maybe Madam Pomfrey was right and she had simply been in a duel and it had done some sort of damage to her. She sighed, casting away thoughts of duels and hexes and thought for a moment just how tired she actually was.

Even though she knew she had only woken up after a long sleep, a very long sleep, she thought with a grimace, as one hand trailed through hair that hadn't seen water or shampoo in a few day, she felt undeniably tired and contemplated keeping her eyes closed, for just a minute, she thought. Only the panic of her earlier nightmare convinced her of the folly of her thoughts.

Reminded of the horror she had felt on waking, she tried to remember the details of her dream. But it was like trying to grasp at clouds. Only fleeting images had stayed with her.

A figure.

A cloak.

And light.

She snorted then, rather startling the nurse, who had just returned. Some nightmare! Weren't people supposed to be afraid of the dark and welcome the light rather than the opposite way round?

One of those mysteries of life, she supposed. Like how some people could be deathly afraid of frogs but think battling vampires a piece of cake. She stifled a grin at that, feeling that the nurse already thought she was strange enough as it was. As it was she accepted the breakfast tray with an almost too wide smile from Madam Pomfrey.

A rather nervous Madam Pomfrey.

As she ate she cast quick glances at the changed nurse, wondering what had happened to make her suddenly so nervous. She finished the breakfast quickly, the nicest scrambled eggs and toast she had ever had, and sat back, satiated. She was only moments finished when a knock came at the door. Madam Pomfrey jumped out of her seat and had the door opened before Dawn could ask who I was. And when she saw who it was, she was more than surprised.

Professor Snape stalked into the room like an overlarge raven, all black clothes and overhanging nose. And even the mildly comic picture that raised in Dawn's mind didn't pull a smile out of her so confused and slightly anxious was she.

Snape, as Harry referred to him, didn't speak immediately, only seemed to wait till Madam Pomfrey left the room carrying the breakfast tray, before addressing her.

"I understand from what Madam Pomfrey said that you have been involved in a duel." His snide tones let Dawn know just what he thought of that. Dawn didn't say anything in return, and she watched him assume that information to be true. "I hope you are proud of yourself, you kept a Gryffindor unconscious for nearly three days. She hasn't woken yet. I think it's a record."

Dawn really tried not to react, and from the way Snape was knitting his brows she had at least mostly succeeded. Internally she was whirling. _Had she been in a duel?_ It seemed to be the only thing that would account for the accusation levelled at her. At another level her mind was screaming at her to find out just who she had supposedly been duelling with. But that question would raise too many other questions, like; what sort of magic she had been duelling with that had left her with temporary (at least so she hoped) amnesia.

Snape scowled at what he took to be a students ignoring of his presence and pulled out his wand. Dawn gasped as she saw him to so.

"I have to do some tests," he said in a voice that told her even if she argued he would not listen. "Please hold still."

Dawn did, tucking her elbows into her sides in the effort as she watched Snape flick and flourish his wand over her. She was so busy watching the movements of his wand, as if she could tell what he was doing by its gestures, that she missed that shock that flickered through his eyes as he read the results. He finished quickly and Dawn again missed the nod he gave as he tucked his wand away in the recesses of his robes and before she even realised it, he had left the room.

But even then she was left alone mere moments before Madam Pomfrey was back in the room. But the nurse wouldn't answer any of her questions except to say that Professor Dumbledore would be in to talk to her soon and would tell her anything she needed to know.

That didn't sit very well with Dawn, who was used to being told thing she 'needed' to know and right now yearned for the answers to all the questions she could think of. Like for instance: who was the other person in the hospital wing. But she didn't say as much to Madam Pomfrey, only lay back and allowed the nurse to take her seat in peace.

Presumably to wait for Dumbledore to come back, but for a moment Dawn had the impression that there was more to the reasoning than that. Her eyes flitted to the bars across the window. She had seen them earlier though they hadn't registered. Now though they seemed peculiar and out of place.

Or maybe it was she who was feeling out of place.

Something occurred to her then that she hadn't thought of before. Her eyes searched the room again, but no matter how they probed they came up with the same answer. Empty. Of all but her and Madam Pomfrey. She had a moment to worry that Harry had gone completely but as soon as they thought occurred to her it also occurred to her that she would know if Harry was gone. She didn't know how she would know, but she would.

She hesitated a few more seconds, but when there was no sign or sound of Dumbledore coming, she swept back the covers, over and above Madam Pomfrey's objections, and began pulling on the robes that had been left for her on top of the dresser by the wall. She had almost finished dressing when Dumbledore came back in.

Madam Pomfrey held a whispered conference with him but as their conversation became more heated Dawn gave up being angry that people were talking about her behind her back - or rather in front of her - and tried to tune into what they were saying till the hands tying the fastenings slowed and then stopped. She managed to overhear the nurse saying "shouldn't be out of bed, either of them" before Dumbledore noticed her listening and cut Madam Pomfrey off rather sharply.

Dawn tried to look unconcerned, though the last comment had left her feeling distinctly cold, as she finished tying the buckles on her robes. When she looked up Madam Pomfrey had left the room and the look Dumbledore was giving her was not the gentle twinkling smile she had previously seen.

"Please have a seat, Miss Summers," he said, sounding much more severe than Dawn could remember. Dawn rather uncomfortably took a seat on the edge of the bed, as it was the only other place to sit bar the chair that Dumbledore had already claimed. The silence had stretched on for longer than was comfortable before Dumbledore spoke again.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to know that Miss Granger will be alright. Madam Pomfrey assures me she will wake in an hour or so."

Dawn thought for a second, but drew a blank.

"Hermione Granger," he explained gently. "A sixth year in Gryffindor. I believe you two know one another."

She knew who he was talking about and the term Gryffindor placed her easily in the realms of "opponent in the supposed duel". She just wished that she could remember what had happened and then maybe she might feel the guilt that these people seemed to think she should. And as an aside she might stem the curiosity that raged in her for more details.

"She is quite drained. Both of you are. In a way that two wizarding students rarely are. Madam Pomfrey assures me the only other case of magical catatonia she has ever seen was in a couple of seventh year NEWT students back in eighty-three and eighty-seven respectively and both students awoke within a twenty-four hour period completely magically refreshed and completed their NEWTs within the time frame." He peered at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "She also seems to believe that it was a simple case of a duel gone wrong. However neither you nor Miss Granger seem to be fully recuperated which leads me to believe that you must have drained your abilities to beyond the worst case of magical exhaustion on record. Something that could have killed both of you."

Dawn gaped at him.

"As your headmaster it is my duty to find out and understand what has occurred but my examination of the owlery has divulged little evidence." He seemed to her to look more grave than she had seen him before. "I won't order you to tell me what occurred between yourself and Miss Granger, but I would ask you, it could only help you and her."

He waited. But he would be waiting a long time. She wondered if she knew what had happened would she have told him. As it was, she kept her silence, averting her gaze in a shame she didn't feel.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see him pinching his lips together. His next words shook her.

"Do you even remember?"

She stared at him with wide eyes, before looking away and shaking her head, a almost imperceptible flick of her head.

She heard him sigh, and knew he'd seen it, then the quiet rustle of his robes as he stood.

But she didn't look up until she heard the soft click of the door closing behind him. She waited a few moments until she was sure he was gone before standing up and trying the door handle. It wasn't locked.

She hesitated then, thinking over Madam Pomfrey's rather strenuous objections to her bring out of bed.

Screw that, she thought. I'm not going to figure out what happened to me lying in a bloody hospital bed.

With that thought, and one that she ought not to be using the swear words she had picked up from Spike even if they were culturally relevant, she practically ran out of the room.

--


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione walked slowly out of the room. Her mind was still in a bit of a spin and everything felt strangely out of joint. If she turned her head too quickly she felt she could almost see through the walls. She put it down to the lingering effects of… well whatever had happened. Despite Madam Pomfrey's insinuations that she had been duelling, she couldn't suppress the thought that it had been something more. Something that had to do with- Harry?

She walked for a number of minutes for she came to the realisation that something was wrong. Her mind was flitting from thought to thought. Memory to memory, without direction, or pattern, or input from herself.

One moment she would recall the day she had received her Hogwarts letter, whatever guiding force was conducting this search shared her belief that this was an important event, then it suddenly seemed to jump in time to the long-seeming moment as Victor Krum leaned in to kiss her. The _force_ did not share her feelings of importance on this memory and she felt almost annoyed at that.

Next she was forced to recall the exact moment she had slapped Draco Malfoy back in third year, the memory so strong she could feel the pain in the palm of her hand again. It sped up flitting through seemingly unimportant dates - exams, random conversations, books, films - Hermione felt surprised at the extent of her own memory.

And a little dizzy.

She stopped walking and stood still, eyes closed. She couldn't fight it, it was stronger than her. Older than her. And somehow she seemed to know that it wasn't something to be afraid of. But when it started bring up what seemed like every memory she had of Harry she tried to fight it. That pain was too fresh. She couldn't stop the storm of emotions that threatened to flood her, each linked intrinsically to whatever memory was being scrutinized. Every happy, angry, sad, loving, fearful emotion she had felt for Harry was pulled up. She was hugging Harry on the edge of the lake, both soaked and shivering, though for different reasons. She watched once again as Harry, now eleven, walked through the fire-barred door to face Snape, only for it to turn out to be Quirrell. She pressed a kiss to his forehead on platform 9 and ¾, watched as he bucked and struggled in pain and the last breath left his body. The intensity lessened and she felt a moment of reprieve then-

Something came to her. An image, like a frozen movie clip, old men in robes, arms upraised as if chanting, billows of incense smoke hung in the air unmoving. She screwed up her forehead in concentration but the image flitted away under the scrutiny. She shook her head, and as she did so another picture seemed to form in her head.

She was pulled into a new image. A figure standing at the end of a runway, struggling as if tied to… Hermione paused in thought. She was pulled forward, closer, and she could see the hands were tied to two metal posts, long, brown hair tossed wildly as she - for it was certainly a she - struggled madly for freedom. She looked up- But before Hermione could see her face she was removed from the image, and now she was standing before a struggling pair. She stared in horror as one body morphed continuously, one moment a vainglorious blonde with a look of horrifying glee on her face, the other a taller man who seemed to be struggling not to lose himself to the same madness.

Hermione felt the force take her again, down a different path this time, her mind being drawn from image to image, a kaleidoscope of memories, none of them hers, faces she didn't recognise but felt some deeper connection to. And if it she could figure that bit out she would understand the rest-

"Hermione!"

She looked up, startled back to reality. Whatever had guided her mind through the subconscious maze lost its grip and she look into the worried face of her best friend. Ron sighed in relief. He had his hands on her shoulders and appeared to have been shaking her.

"I've been trying to talk to you for the past five minutes," he was staring at her in consternation.

"I'm fine, Ron, just-"

"Thinking?"

"Ya and-"

"Well what ever it was can wait until we're back in the comfort of the common room, where it's nice and warm and you can explain to me why you ended up in the hospital wing for three days when you said you were just going to post a letter!"

**ooo**

**That night**

"Are you going to reveal this secret to us yet, Albus?"

Dumbledore spared his Deputy Head a quick glance as he entered his own office. Mainly to assess her mood, before walking to his overstuffed bookshelf and pulling a slim volume down. Hawk-eyed, Professor McGonagall missed nothing, Dumbledore didn't expect her to it was one of the traits he admired most about her. He took his seat without responding and laid the diary, for that was what it was, in front of him, unopened. He considered his words long before he spoke again, thanking his stars that McGonagall was so patient with him. It was a credit to her really. He wasn't sure if he could have been as patient with himself. But she had waited long enough…

"An odd choice of words," he said mildly, then continued on as if afraid of incurring her ire. "Because I believe it is that very endeavour that caused this little incident."

McGonagall ignored Dumbledore's understatement to ponder what he had just said. Eventually she gave up trying to understand the seemingly simple statement and asked him, quite bluntly to get to the point.

Dumbledore didn't smile now, as he stared beyond her. McGonagall sometimes thought he really did have the gift of the sight, so good was his propensity for thinking of the outcome of events long before they had happened.

"Miss Granger is quite extraordinary, isn't she?" he asked, without waiting for an answer. "Put the toughest challenge in front of her, place a riddle right under her nose, and she will think and look and question until she has the answer."

Now McGonagall looked suspiciously at the Headmaster.

"What have you done." Years of friendship allowed her to bypass the usual niceties co-workers usually waded through to get to an answer.

Now Dumbledore smiled at her.

"Nothing, my old friend," McGonagall bristled at the term of endearment, "only set her a riddle." He pressed his fingers tight against the cover of the book in front of him, and said to his dear companion, "would you like to hear a story."

Minerva McGonagall gave him an indecipherable look, but nodded without speaking.

"It begins many eons ago," he told her, "in a different world, where demons and gods ruled the plane of existence. But creatures such as these are not meant to live in harmony and so there was a war. One of the triumvirate of gods who ruled the world sought to gain possession over her brothers."

"I take it she wasn't successful."

"You would be correct. Her brothers banished her. Sent her to a far off world, tied her to the life of a mortal there so that she would live and die as he would." McGonagall felt a growing chill as he spoke. "But the power of the gods existed mainly in the power they shared, and so the bond they created slowly wore down till it was no more." He looked at her gravely. "And so a HellGod was released on a world unfit for her existence. And she was unhappy. She sought a way to return to her own dimension. And there was a way." He paused, seeking out the best way to reveal the truth.

"In the world there are many powers. We, as witches and wizards, have studied such powers. But many such powers are taboo in our culture for they dangerous, not only to our nature but to the very fabric of reality.

"One such power was the Key. An energy that could unlock the barriers of the dimensions themselves, guarded by a sect of monks who would, and did, give their lives to protect it.

"They hid the energy of the Key, gave it substance and form. Moulded it into the shape of a human girl, and gave her life, a life and a family." The terror in his colleagues eyes was unmasked. "And gave her a name."

"Dawn!" She gasped.

The silence in the room, stretched unbroken for many minutes. Dumbledore waited. He didn't hold his breath, nor did his heartbeat quicken. But his nerves stretched with the silence until he felt it would snap like broken elastic. Finally, McGonagall moved, responded.

"Does she know?" Dumbledore nodded and McGonagall felt a wave of pity wash over her. "The poor girl. To know she was created in such a manner." Now she levelled a narrow eyed gaze of suspicion on Dumbledore. "How do you know all of this?" She followed his gaze to the narrow-bound book under his fingers.

"You know of the Watchers Council?" He asked.

"Yes, yes. They guard the slayer, last hope of all mankind or some such nonsense."

Dumbledore ignored her impatience.

"Back when the Watchers Council was first formed it was a branch of the Ministry of Magic, or a branch of the Ministry as it was then. As they two moved further and further apart, some felt it best that they keep some kind of watch on them, who watches the watchers, or something of that ilk," he gave a half shrug. "He introduced a protective spell for all watchers diaries and made it compulsory to use it. Of course an added feature was that for every diary with that marker a direct copy was made and placed in a vault in a section in what is now the Department of Mysteries." He gave the book a tap. "That is where I found this. The most recent Watcher Diary. I assume that the order became tradition and that the tradition has continued to this day."

McGonagall stared reflectively at the book.

"They sent her to someone who could protect her," she lifted her wizened eyes to Dumbledore's, seeking only confirmation before she continued. "Did it fail?"

"In one way, yes, it did." He sighed, age and sadness settling into the lines of his face, like an old friend come to visit. "The portal was opened and even when the Hell-God was destroyed it continued to grow. And would have done so but for the sacrifice-" McGonagall gaped. Dumbledore swallowed. "Miss Summers' sister gave her life to close the portal. I do not know the details. The last words in the diary, well see."

He passed the diary across. McGonagall took it gingerly, eyes taking in the details. The book seemed to have been reproduced exactly, down to the crease in the spine from constant use and even as her eyes were drawn to the last sentence on the page she was mentally cataloguing the cursive script used, identifying markers in the writing that suggested that the writer was male, right-handed and, as the writing down the page became progressively harder to read, was somewhat distressed. The final words on the page did not lend much to her understanding.

_As Spike is so fond of saying, it was in the blood._

"Blood is a major ingredient in most Dark Magic," she found herself saying, voice devoid of emotion even as her thoughts raced. "It is not unlikely that it took the blood of the Key to close the portal." Dumbledore nodded as if the thought had occurred to him also. McGonagall stared at the page, seeing the words without comprehension. In her minds eye she saw a pale pointed face, and she wondered at the hurt hidden behind those eyes.

"Why is she here, Dumbledore?" she asked sharply.

"It is my belief that Dawn has been picked to carry on a particular destiny." He gazed at her and for the first time in many weeks McGonagall could see a spark of hope in his eyes.

ooo

**Five mornings later - in a moment**

Hermione dreamed of green fire and eyes like the sea in stormy weather. She dreamt of a high tower that swayed in the slightest breeze and she stood beside trembling figure on a precipice high above the ground. They stood staring out over the uneven horizon of buildings. And Hermione waited. She waited for the other to speak, for she knew, without knowing why that it was not her place to break this unnatural silence, this eerie tranquillity. The tower gave a groan, the horizon dipped and bobbed as the tower moved with the strain of its own weight.

The other woman moved subconsciously closer to the edge and Hermione had a sudden insight.

"Don't!" She grabbed the too-thin arm of the other person, a young woman in stature, a broken animal when you looked into her eyes. Hermione stared, frozen into those hazy eyes, looked into the depths and wondered would anything she said keep her from falling.

And when she turned Hermione was surprised by the familiarity of the woman.

"I'm dreaming?" Her voice was faint, rusty from lack of use.

Hermione nodded, then shrugged.

"I think I'm the one dreaming." The other girl nodded as if this made perfect sense.

"I was here before and… I had to jump. I knew I had to jump. But- But if that's true then why did I come back? Why was I brought back?"

Hermione didn't have any answers for her.

"My sister. I died for my sister." She turned back to the edge again, searching for something. She knelt, fingers scrabbling in the grating. Her nails came away with flecks of- _blood_. She nodded then, seemingly satisfied. Her hands closed, holding the flecks tight in her fist. "It was real. It happened." She frowned, slowly, as if remembering how. "Then where did she go?"

"Um, who?" Her natural inquisitiveness overcoming the fear she felt in this bizarre encounter.

"My sister!" She placed her other hand over her heart. "I used to be able to feel her here." Her hand beat out a heartbeat over her own. "Like-" she shrugged, words failing her. "I can't feel her! She's just… gone. My baby."

"Who?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"Dawn. She's gone and now I can't find her and I wanted to tell her. I needed to tell her!"

The dream was fading. Hermione could feel herself beginning to wake up and she struggled against it.

"Wait," she called. "Tell me! Your sister? Is her name Dawn, Dawn Summers?"

ooo

The answer was almost lost as Hermione breathed herself awake but she heard the affirmation before the _real_ world intruded itself upon her. She woke with irritation at the bright light that had edged round her curtains and called her from her dreams. Then reached for a quill and the leather bound book on her bedside table, irritation fading as she wrote down the details of her night visions even as the details faded, hazel eyes fading in her minds eye. And while the ink dried she stared at the words she had written.

She flipped back to the front of the journal. At the titles she had written on each page, each singular page signifying a night of dream visions, all together adding up to nearly a week since she had left the hospital wing. The first was written a few days after when she realised the pattern, the subtext, within each dream.

She had met six different people who had known Dawn Summers, a Dawn Summers who was both 15 and nearly 2 years old.

**ooo**

**The boys dorm**

Neville sat straight up in bed, fingers twisting the bed sheets between his fingers. Another night, another nightmare. Nothing different from any other night but somehow the twisted grimace on Harry's face never seemed to horrify him any less.

He was wondering if it ever would.

He wondered if he would see Harry's face in his dreams for the rest of his life.

He wondered if it was payment enough.

Wondered if it was payment enough for what he had unwittingly done to the boy he'd looked up to since he'd first heard the story of 'The Boy Who Lived'.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and threw back his bed covers, stumbling past the curtains with natural clumsiness that was somehow endearing to those who knew him. He ignored the glances he drew as he made his way to and from the bathroom. Ignored the more concerned looks that Ron kept giving him in what he obviously thought was a furtive manner. If it had been for any other reason Neville would have thought it funny.

ooo

He somehow made it though classes.

ooo


End file.
